Your culture is what makes you who you are, it’s your identity. Everyone has a culture, and whether it’s been stolen, altered, or remained intact, that culture is still uniquely yours. There’s a lot that divides us in this world, but that's one thing we all have in common.

For Kabari Nsain, a 21-year-old Nigerian, listening to Afrobeats during her freshman year of high school simply wasn’t possible because there wasn’t much out then.

Kabari Nsain soaking up the sun in Malibu. (Photo courtsey of Kabari)

“It's crazy how much more types of African music and the Afrobeats genre has grown in just the past five years. But in freshman year … that was my first time starting to listen to music, period. Like I just got Spotify,” said Nsain.

Seventh grade was when she became more aware of the world. At the age of 12 she moved for the first time out of her childhood home to the suburbs of Atlanta. On her iPod, she downloaded Snapchat, her first social media account, and began connecting with her friends and the rest of the world.

“I remember my first time meeting my first African friend, and she didn't know I was Nigerian because my name doesn't look … obviously Nigerian I guess, but hers is obvious. So I knew she was Nigerian, but she didn't know I was. And then we ended up talking about it, Nsain said. “That was the first time I felt like a form of a bond over my background that wasn't … someone I grew up with, since childhood.”

Through this shift, she began discovering interests which aligned with her identity and culture. But it wasn’t until high school that she began to listen to Afrobeats. She began filling her playlists on Spotify with songs that made her feel nostalgic, drawing her back to those long car rides and African parties that kept her up until 2 a.m.

“African Giant” by Burna Boy was the first Afrobeats album she listened to from top to bottom. She said, “I loved that album in high school — like I ate that for breakfast, lunch and dinner… It had a really big impact on how I viewed Afrobeats and just African music because it sounded so different, but it also sounded nostalgic, but it also sounded like a fresh sound.”

What is Afrobeats? According to Revolt TV, the genre “has diverse influences that take inspiration from its African roots and are combined with other music genres such as rap, reggae, dancehall, R&B, and hiplife, a musician style that Ghanaians identify as hip hop with a more modern expression.”

The genre originated from its predecessor Afrobeat, and while that may seem like the same thing, it’s not. Afrobeat was popularized by Fela Kuti, the pioneer of the genre. According to Revolt TV, he combined African harmonic and rhythmic concepts with contemporary musical genres to create a new sound.

Although Nsain has a deep connection to Afrobeats and her culture, it hasn’t always been this way. Growing up she lived in a predominantly Hispanic area, few people looked like her, and fewer looked like people from her culture.

Nsain comes from a smaller tribe in Nigeria, the Ogoni. She recalled how they have a small community in Georgia but outside of that, it was hard to meet other Ogoni. She saw being Black and Nigerian as synonymous, rather than a distinct cultural difference.

The Ogoni flag. (Photo courtsey of Shutterstock)

“Hair has always been a big thing and because it was a predominantly Hispanic area…there was no curly hair, it was just straight hair … if there was non-straight hair, it was wavy hair. So sometimes I was like, I really wish my hair was long and wavy like that girl’s, [but] there's nothing you could do, they had straight hair and I had kinky hair with shrinkage. I was realistic.”

While she may have had her doubts about her appearance like any growing child, or wished she had friends who looked like her, Nsain said she never allowed for those things to affect her and instead used them as stepping stones to get to where she is today.

With her public relations degree from USC, she hopes to manage artists like the ones she listens to. She desires to be the publicist you rely on for Afrobeats artists because she believes representation is important and people should know an artist’s inspiration for making music and their background

Western artists have begun dipping their toes into the genre. We’ve seen collabs such as “Peru” by Fireboy DML featuring Ed Sheeran, Ku Lo SA by Oxlade featuring Camilla Cabello, and “Calm Down” by Rema featuring Selena Gomez.

“Calm Down” was one of the most successful Afrobeats collaborations, hitting over 1 billion streams on Spotify, and remaining in the top 10 after 57 weeks for Billboard’s Hot 100. The success of this collaboration will only promote more to happen.

But what will this mean for the future of Afrobeats? Are African artists sacrificing their authenticity to fit into American culture?

Over the past couple of years, Afrobeats began to gain traction within the U.S. due to the popularity of African culture in mainstream media.

The rise of Afrobeats was a main factor in the shift. Western artists such as Chris Brown, Drake, and Beyonce have been collaborating with African artists and incorporating African culture into their sound. Songs such as “One Dance” by Drake featuring Wizkid, “Blow My Mind” by Davido and Brown, and “Flawless” by Beyonce featuring Chimamanda Adichie gained huge success within the U.S. music scene.

For me, being African or more specifically Ghanaian was just the norm, I never put much thought into it. Kids had Taco Tuesdays at home, but I'd come home hearing the clanging of the pot as my mom pounded fufu and instantly knew I was having peanut butter soup that night.

As I got older, I realized my culture was different from other people’s. In my culture, out of respect for your parents, you call them mommy and daddy. Since middle school, whenever I utter those two words around others, they are overtaken by dismay. American culture has changed the meaning of those words, so I’m supposed to feel ashamed for muttering them in public. But why should I have to change how I display my culture to make others feel comfortable?

Me in my childhood home in North Carolina.

Me at age five, before I moved to Maryland.

When I lived in Maryland, one day in Safeway, as my dad bought his lottery scratcher tickets, I impatiently waited by the register ready to leave. A man approached me, 10 years old at the time. The moment he asked, “Are you African?” I realized he was too. I don’t know if he heard me talking to my dad or made the observation based on my appearance, but I didn’t know what to say.

Eventually, I said, “My family is from Ghana.”

Not, “I’m from Ghana,” I didn’t internalize this as shame in that moment, as I genuinely didn’t understand how race and ethnicity worked at that age. But I refrained from saying “I” for a reason.

After my dad and the man ended their long conversation, he turned to me and said, “You’re from Ghana too, not just your family, be proud of that.” Ten-year old me had a revelation that day, and it replayed in my head on a continuous loop.

The dance team and I in the yearbook.

Growing up, I went to middle school on Andrews Air Force Base, where I lived. Every morning I would dress up in khaki pants, a white button-down, with a red, white, and blue tie. The school was pretty diverse and had a large demographic of Black students, so I was always surrounded by people who looked like me.

But these kids weren’t like me. Kids used to laugh at my parents’ accents or say they couldn’t understand them, and everything about African culture was a joke to them. I internalized this behavior into shame regarding my culture, and I didn’t want people to know I was African because I didn’t want to be a target anymore.

As I got older this feeling changed. My freshman year in high school I joined the African dance team, and I began listening to Afrobeats constantly. During our practices, I was reintroduced to artists such as Davido, Wizkid, and Tiwa Savage and listened to them religiously.

Afrobeats guided me to see the beauty and versatility of my culture. I never had anything to be ashamed about, society just made me think otherwise.

Marcel Apatwean, a 20-year-old Ghanaian, has had a different experience in establishing a relationship with Afrobeats. Music has never been his chosen art form, and growing up in the church he wasn’t surrounded by that type of music.

Marcel in Amoeba Music, a record store in Hollywood. (Photo courtesy of Marcel)

“Growing up, my grandparents hated any kind of music that was not gospel. If it was not gospel, I was really not listening to it,” said Apatwean.

In his apartment complex in the Bronx, on almost every single floor there were Ghanians. Two Ghanaian kids from his school lived on the fifth floor and right across from them was another Ghanaian family who would babysit him.

Although he was surrounded by a community of Ghanians, his friendships felt conditional. He would see them at church or when he would go over to their place. But it wasn’t on a day-to-day basis with friends from school because they weren’t the same age. Instead, most of the time he was surrounded by his mom and grandparents

“I was more familiar with the older Ghanaian experience … you have to obey your parents, you do this, you do that. You don't listen to Afrobeats, you listen to gospel music and everything, and you kind of just sit there and you're complacent. So I feel like that's sort of the way I was brought up,” said Apatwean.

Marcel in Royalhouse Chapel in the Bronx, New York. (Photo courtesy of Marcel)

When he began listening to Afrobeats, he wasn’t actually listening. He would pull up music videos on his computer and watch as he moved his body, copying every dance move. Now in college at USC, his journey with Afrobeats has expanded.

In the mornings, he snoozes his alarm and gets up — he feels groggy, he doesn’t want to go to the gym. But he slides on his headphones, puts on Afrobeats, turns up the volume and now he’s there for longer than intended.

For him there’s a sense of versatility with Afrobeats, and that’s what he likes about the genre, you can never get bored. Even as he cycles through genres when listening to music he said he always finds his way back to Afrobeats because there’s just something special about it.

People have had various opinions about the collaborations that have been happening in the past years. Some enjoy it, some don’t care, and some people have gone as far to say the genre has become “gentrified.”

“I just hope in the future it doesn't become watered down … I really hope it doesn't become a thing where once people are done with it, they [are] like throwing away trash,” said Apatwean. “When they do these big collaborations it’s more so in the vein that they are starting to appreciate what Afrobeats brings to the table.”

He continued that he wants to bring the music “out into the world” instead of just being trendy. “I hope that people continue to look out for Afrobeats, for its artistry … for the people that it supports, for the lives that it changes, for the way it makes people more comfortable in their African identity.”

Msia Kibona Clark, associate professor of African Studies at Howard University, discusses how the elements behind these collaborations go deeper than just the basis of music, it’s culturally driven as well.

“The belief in American exceptionalism is everywhere. Black people in America believe in it. People from other groups believe in it. And so if America is exceptional, America is exceptional in every aspect,” Clark said. “And so other people can perhaps be a part of that, but they have to fit themselves into what Americans like.”

Hope Akpabli, who was born and still resides in Ghana, has a different opinion about the collaborations. “It exposes them to expand their network and their fan base, so they are tapping into the fanbase of the person that they are collaborating with,” Akpabli said. “It opens the door for more gigs, more performances … opens a chance for you to get connected to more prominent artists, that's also in the international scene.”

Hope in Adenta, a town in Accra, Ghana. (Photo courtesy of Hope)

Akpabli grew up in the Volta region of Ghana, full of valleys, rocky mountains, and breathtaking waterfalls. He was born in the village and lived in a mud house, until his parents moved to the main town the day after he was born. He didn’t grow up with his parents because of job constraints, but he visited them.

Before he left, his parents would play their local music known as Agbadza and Bor-Bor-Bor, and it would fill every room in their home. He recalls his dad having a pen drive full of a collection of music.

He recalled going to Deza Festival, also known as the Palm Nut Festival. Palm nut is used in a lot of Ghanaian dishes, so this festival centered around celebrating it and eating dishes such as palm nut soup. The Hogbetsotsco Festival is another festival he grew up going to, where the Anlo people in the Volta region come to celebrate their culture through dancing and music. These festivals taught him a lot and helped build his relationship with his culture.

At age 10 he moved to Accra, the capital of Ghana, for middle school. During this phase of his life, he was introduced to Western culture and music. When he got his first phone he began downloading and listening to a lot of new music from artists such as Nicki Minaj, Cardi B, and Meek Mill.

This broadened his taste in music, and gave him a unique perspective toward the collaborations because it put people from places like he was on the map.

The Adomi Bridge over the Volta River in Ghana. (Photo courtsey of Shutterstock)

Afrobeats is the latest genre to undergo the trend of black-created genres being infiltrated by people outside of the culture. When you look at many of these genres today, such as country and rock and roll, the main faces of these genres are no longer Black, they are white.

Another problem that arose as a result of these collaborations is the discrediting of Afrobeats artists’ careers as a whole. Those unaware of their success outside of America commonly think collaborations with popular Western artists is what gave them their breakthrough. Although this may have unlocked a new audience in America, it undermines all the success they have on a global aspect.

“You have artists that are known everywhere else in the world, but Americans won't know who they are,” said Clark. “And this idea that they're not an American artist, that they're not catering to the American ear, then they're not necessarily worthy of even paying attention to because we have the biggest market.”